


It's the Way You say My Name

by rundaehyun



Category: GOT7
Genre: Jinmark, M/M, Markjin, marknior
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-15
Updated: 2015-08-15
Packaged: 2018-04-14 21:23:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4580631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rundaehyun/pseuds/rundaehyun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Usually, Jinyoung’s smile makes Mark’s heart swells in an undescribable wonder, but this time, that same smile breaks it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's the Way You say My Name

With him, love was like a song.

 

It was cheesy. Melodic. The rhythm soothed Jinyoung’s sturdy heart as it was promising him a little bit of everything as days passed. Sometimes it was loud and he found himself danced through the song, but some other times it was soft and warm like classical musics he liked to play at the night of cold winter.

 

First love, with him was colorful. It painted Jinyoung’s world, introduced him to beautiful blends of various shades that makes a new color he had never seen before. It acquainted him with magenta, amaranth, coquelicot, scarlet, and various shades of reds. And sometimes blue. But mostly red.

 

Jinyoung liked songs. Jinyoung liked colors.

 

But Jinyoung talked about him in past tenses. One time to his mother, the other times to Mark. But mostly, to Mark.

.

.

.

“You know what, there are two types of people in this world. The people who loves from 100% and decreases to 0%, and people who loves from 0% but then increases to 100%. So, which one are you, Mark?”

 

Jinyoung likes to ask about silly questions. Sometimes about spaces and constellations, about kingdoms and wars, about God, about life, about death, about love. Sometimes they required answers, but most of the time Mark would just shrug and Jinyoung wouldn’t mind it. Mark loves how his clear black orbs reflects the sunshine as he squinted his doe eyes, how it has power to turn Mark’s center of gravitation to them and them only. As the June sun shines above them and let Jinyoung’s skin glows under it, Mark shrugs to answer his question this time too.

 

“I demand an answer this time, Mark.” He said, faking a sulky face. Adorable is an understatement to describe it as Mark smiles when he sensed an innocent curiousity from the younger men, who sits next to him on a bench, at the park where Jinyoung likes to sit and type his stories.

 

Mark likes it when Jinyoung calls his name.

 

“Is there anyone who loves 100% and stays the same?”

 

Now Jinyoung shrugs, “No?” he answered as if he isn’t sure himself.

 

“Why?”

 

Jinyoung furrows his eyebrows, thinking. “That’s just what people do, Mark. They change. Be it themselves, or things around them.”

 

“I want to be someone who stays the same.”

 

Jinyoung’s eyes studied Mark’s, as if trying to find any inside jokes that maybe he can reply with bad jokes later. “You cannot.”

 

“I can try.”

 

Jinyoung shakes his head, “You will get hurt.”

 

“It’s worth it.”

 

“Believe me, Mark. I know.” The light in those eyes dims, Jinyoung turns his gaze to the brownish grass under his shoes. Mark wants to caress those soft and fluffy black hair that covers his forehead and reach the upper  frame of his glasses. Mark wants to say that Jinyoung is wrong but then he would ask for evidences and he has none.

 

Mark wishes he can proof that there is someone who can love the same for eternity. Mark wishes that someone is him.

.

.

.

“I don’t know why people thanked me for the happy endings in my novels. I was lying. There is no happy ending in this life, why do they believe in those shitty things I wrote, whereas I myself made it up to keep me from killing myself.”

 

Mark stuffs kimchi into his mouth as he listens to Jinyoung reading emails from his readers. Jinyoung’s rice hasn’t been touched since it’s arrived, he is more interested in complaining about things people wrote back to him—sometimes even earning looks from the waiter who walks pass them.

 

“Maybe it keeps them from killing themselves too.”

 

Jinyoung laughed, not a happy laugh, but a laugh that indicates about how he doesn’t believe in what Mark said.

 

“Those things are shitty, Mark, they had even became another reason for me to choke myself to death.”

 

Mark still loves it when Jinyoung says his name. Even when he’s talking about bad things.

 

“Maybe it helps them restore faith in humanity.”

 

Jinyoung tsk-ed, “Funny that the writer himself doesn’t have any fucking faith left.”

 

Sometimes Jinyoung sees the world as a dangerous place, with no love, no kindness, with a bad ending. Quite the contrary of what he writes for his novels; love, rainbows, butterflies, and happy endings. He claimed that it made him seems like a good person; a person whose life is great. He likes it when people sees him as a happy person, he likes to laugh and joke in the launching events of his novels or the gatherings of fellow authors and readers.

 

Mark wouldn’t say that Jinyoung is a negative person, because Mark knows he had been hurt before and he had built walls around him to keep his wounded heart from anyone who comes near it. Jinyoung isn’t fond of pain because who is? Jinyoung is just someone who doesn’t want to be hurt twice.

 

But he cannot protect himself from pain and sadness without also protecting himself from happiness.

 

Mark wants Jinyoung to know that he’s wrong. That world is not as corrupted as what he thinks. Mark wants Jinyoung to stop protecting himself from happiness too; Mark doesn’t like to know that Jinyoung is suffering from any slightest pain possible.

 

“I hate it when my heart hurts like this, you know. I don’t know why is it hurting but it just cannot stop. I hate it so much I feel like slicing my wrist with this knife.”

 

Jinyoung often says that he’s hurt. He’s hurt. And he’s hurt. But Mark doesn’t want him to hurt, but Mark always keep silent.

 

“Please stop describing ways to kill yourself.” Instead, he said.

 

Mark wants Jinyoung to be okay. And happy.

.

.

.

“Jaebum...”

 

Three years living in the same apartment as Jinyoung makes Mark aware that Jinyoung easily gets sick. He doesnt’ like cold nights and he loathes winter. Jinyoung’s temperature can go up to 40 degree celcius if he catch a bad fever, but if there’s anything in this world he hates the same amount as winter, it’s a trip to hospital.

 

And this time, after years Mark hasn’t heard that name, Jinyoung called it again. Jinyoung was in and out of consciousness so probably he doesn’t aware of who he’s calling.

 

That name, maybe it hurts Mark the same amount as it hurts Jinyoung. Only in different ways.

 

Jinyoung called that name in his unconscious state only means that it has no less meaning for him that it was before. Jinyoung is still trembling from cold, and that one slip of name is never heard again.

 

Mark lays a damp cloth on Jinyoung’s forehead, hoping it could calm his fever down. His clothes is drenched in cold sweat and a single tear manages to slip from his tightly shut eyes.

 

Those pale cheek feels warm against Mark’s cold palm as he cupped it gently. Probably feeling the cold, Jinyoung cracked his eyes open only to meet Mark’s tender gaze. Jinyoung breathes from his mouth, and every struggling inhale and exhale makes Mark dies a little inside.

 

“M-Mark?”

 

Mark nodded. _It’s me. It’s me. Say my name. It’s Mark. I’m always here._

“It’s cold and I’m exhausted.”

 

Mark smiles as he holds the urge to kiss those heavy lids, he caresses Jinyoung’s damp hair instead, and says, “Do you mind if I warm you?”

 

Jinyoung hummed and closes his eyes again, “p-please.”

 

Mark slips himself under the heavy blanket covering Jinyoung’s body and arranges it to wrap Jinyoung nice and warm. Mark slides his one hand under Jinyoung’s neck, and wrap the other around his head loose enough not to suffocate him. Mark rests his chin the top of Jinyoung’s head as he embraces Jinyoung closer to his chest, and something in his chest tighten, in a wonderful way.

 

Mark wishes he can protect Jinyoung like this forever.

 

“M-Mark?”

 

_Call my name. Call my name. Call my name._

“Mark...,”

 

“Yeah?”

 

It was like a mumble, but Jinyoung says his name repeatedly that he cannot count how many times.

 

“...Mark.”

.

.

.

Mark should have known that it’s a wedding party and everyone has chance to show up, even the one anyone doesn’t expect. It’s Mark’s old friend, Jia’s wedding, and if Mark knew who they would run into, he would never brought Jinyoung to the party.

 

“Jinyoungie...,”

 

Mark remembers that voice, but he remember Jinyoung’s expression more clearly.

 

There are no tears, no shouts or unnecessary drama. Jinyoung was unexpectedly calm but Mark could see better that inside of those adorable crinkled smile, there are wounds that ripped open.

 

“Jaebum-ssi.”

 

Mark remembers watching in horror as a pretty woman linked her arms around Jaebum’s, claiming him in front of everyone.

 

“How are you?”

 

“I’m good, yeah, very good. You?”

 

And Mark wish Jinyoung didn’t have to lie only to look okay.

 

“Yeah, I’m good.” Awkward silence. “Erhm, about that time...,”

 

“No worries, no worries, what’s done is done. And hey, I’m Park Jinyoung. Jaebum and I went to the same college.”

 

Mark remembers those forced smile as Jinyoung offer his hand for her to shake.

 

Usually, Jinyoung’s smile makes Mark’s heart swells in an undescribable wonder, but this time, that same smile breaks it.

.

.

.

“I’m sorry Jinyoung.”

 

“No, Mark. Don’t.”

 

“I didn’t mean to hurt you in any way, I honestly didn’t know,”

 

“It doesn’t hurt.”

 

“It’s okay if it is.”

 

“It really doesn’t.”

 

Mark looks at Jinyoung’s calm expression under the dim light inside his car, he’s fidgetting while he plays nervously with his fingers.

 

Mark silently grabs those hands on Jinyoung’s lap, trying to calm it down.

 

“Is it bad if it doesn’t hurt anymore?”

 

But Jinyoung is crying, but that’s tears on his cheeks.

 

“It’s bad, right? If someone’s about to die, they cannot feel pain anymore. Does it mean I am dead at heart? Or is it too painful that it numbs me? What is it, Mark? Why doesn’t it hurt anymore?”

 

Mark doesn’t want to hear it. Mark doesn’t have the answer.

 

“Mark...?”

 

_Mark. Mark. Mark. Say my name again._

“Mark,” Jinyoung looks at Mark on the driver seat, slowly holding back onto the cold hands on his lap.

 

Suddenly the strength Mark used to hold his urges to claim Jinyoung vanishes.

 

Jinyoung’s lips tastes like tears, but it was wonderful as Mark moves his lips gently; norverbally telling Jinyoung his strong feelings that he cannot put into words. Mark runs his hands to the back of Jinyoung’s head as he felt Jinyoung responded to the kiss, and he smiled.

 

Mark Tuan kissed Park Jinyoung, in the middle of February, inside his car, at the night of Im Jaebum’s wedding.

.

.

.

Watching Jinyoung immersed in the book he reads probably is one of billion reasons why Mark is happy. Those clear black orbs moves slowly, his chest rises and falls steadily. Sometimes he furrows his eyebrows, sometimes he smiles, and the other times he fell asleep with an open book on his lap.

 

Mark enjoys looking at Jinyoung sleep too, especially when he’s exhausted after one full day in front of his laptop. His lips slightly parts, black hair covers his forehead, almost reach his eyes. Jinyoung always fell asleep in random palces at home, the result of moving here and there carrying his laptop all day long—looking for inspirations. Jinyoung would protest when he wakes up on the bed, complaining to Mark to never carry him around again—especially not princess style—because he needs to punch wall to feel manly again.

 

“Do you stare at other people like you stare at me?”

 

One afternoon as Jinyoung reads _The Five People You Meet In Heaven_ in their living room, he asks Mark who sits at the other edge of the cushion—without even averting is eyes from the book.

 

“No.”

 

Jinyoung smiles faintly, but Mark manages to catch it.

 

“Good. Don’t ever do that, it’s creepy.”

 

Jinyoung continues to read, Mark continues to stare at him. The silence between them feels so full, nobody’s talking but it feels like they are communicating. Mark’s chest tighten, suddenly he can see better as his eyes focused to Jinyoung and Jinyoung only. He can hear better as he counts the seconds passed that matched his own heartbeat.

 

“Mark?”

 

Mark smiles. _God, he calls my name._

“You always smile when I say your name.”

 

Jinyoung closes his book. It means his love for book today is enough, and the time has come for him to love Mark. Mark only.

 

Mark comes closer and without wasting anymore time he leans and cups Jinyoung’s face, planting a slow kiss on his plump lips. Mark knows he does it right when he feels Jinyoung smiles between the kiss, and that’s when a set of fireworks echoed in Mark’s world. Because in silence where Mark choose to live in, the only noise is Jinyoung. Jinyoung. And Jinyoung.

.

.

.

“Tell me since when?”

 

Jinyoung leans his head on Mark’s bare chest, silently searching for the sound of Mark’s heartbeat to subtitute the absence of his voice. Mark’s heatbeat is always so strong everytime they cuddle, especially when he’s coming down from his high. Mark’s tired face is so manly, Jinyoung cannot get enough.

 

“...Mark?”

 

“Since the very first time we met.”

 

Jinyoung stays silent for a few moments, recalling the silly meeting of them at the airport, way long before they become friend.

 

“When I return your passport?”

 

Mark caresses the back of Jinyoung’s head, combing the thick black hair with his slender fingers.

 

“When you call my name.”

.

_Jinyoung was about to miss his plane to Japan, and his legs are not long enough to run fast to catch it. He ran across the airport, too busy looking at his wristwatch until he collided with someone and they both fell on their butt._

_“Sorry, I am catching a plane! I’m so sorry!” Jinyoung grabbed his ticket and passport, getting ready to run again. After a few meters when Jinyoung checked his watch again, he noticed that it’s United States of America on the cover of his passport instead of Dae Han Min Guk._

_“Mark Tuan?” he reads, and that’s when Jinyoung realized that it belongs to the person he collided with. He turns around and luckily from where he’s standing, he could still see the man whose passport is in his hand._

_“Mark! Mark! Mark!”_

_._

“But how?”

 

“It’s just the way you call my name.”

 

Jinyoung lifts his head, supporting his body with his elbow to look at his lover’s face. Mark’s hand moves from the back of his head to caress his cheek.

 

It’s such a long time ago. Before he broke up with Jaebum. Before Jaebum found someone else who was better than Jinyoung. Before his heart got broken. Before Jinyoung decided to move apartment and somehow collided again with Mark. Before they become friends and live together.

 

Mark had loved him through his every break down. Through his every stories about how much he loved Jaebum, about how much Jaebum had broken his heart.

 

Mark had loved him in silence for so long.

 

“Because of you I missed my plane.”

 

But Jinyoung knows better that Mark gets something worse than just a missing plane.

 

Or better?

 

“Because of you, I fell in love.” Mark smiles, “100% from the beginning, and stays the same until now.”

 

Jinyoung cried. This love makes his chest tighten and he wishes he never became anything that cause Mark to get hurt in his silence.

 

He kisses Mark again, mumbling his name between it again and again.

 

_Mark. Mark. Mark._

.

.

.

“Mark, if I don’t wear a cast, will my bones grow bent or something? I don’t like it, I have to type things on my laptop, you know, to help people restore faith in humanity.”

 

Mark lets out a small laugh as he helps Jinyoung wear his button shirt because he fell in the bathroom and cracked his ulna, resulted in wearing cast for two weeks. Mark remembered how Jinyoung calmly walk to him wearing only a bathrobe and literally shoved his right hand to Mark who was eating breakfast in front of TV, and innocently said “ _Mark I think I broke my hand bones_ ”

 

“Mark I don’t want my hand to bent.”

 

Jinyoung is silly, he’s made of imaginations, stories, sweet things, and a little bit of negativity. Jinyoung is partially an adorable five years old but partially a talented and professional grown man. Jinyoung talks a lot, he asks a lot, he worries a lot, and he loves a lot too.

 

Mark loves it that Jinyoung is now talking about his stories in more pleasant ways, without describing any terrifying ways to kill anyone. He still writes about loves and rainbows, sometimes also stars and constellations. About happy endings.

 

Only right now, he believes in it.

.

.

.

Mark doesn’t describe his love in poets or songs, or paints or photographs. Mark doesn’t like to talk, Mark doesn’t like crowds and noises. Mark likes silences, for in silence, he can love Jinyoung as freely as he wants to.

 

Mark loves in silence. For in his silence, Jinyoung is his only noise. Jinyoung is the center of his gravity. It’s Jinyoung. Jinyoung. And Jinyoung.

 

For in his silence, he can hear better. He can hear Jinyoung calls his name better. Mark. Mark. Mark. And fall in love all over again.

.

.

.

  **[END]**

 

 

 

 


End file.
